Chapter Thirteen
Clifton
Despite the quiet in our office, I can hear the hum of the building as people begin to shuffle out toward their vehicles and off to their lives.
I glance over at Emma, wondering what’s on her mind. She flashes me a soft smile, one that melts my insides like chocolate left in the sun on a hot summer day. I think about the kisses we’ve shared even as the smart side of my brain tells me I need to snuff out this developing spark between us.
“It’s about time to go home,” I say, and she nods.
Some nights we stay late, but somehow, we’re both ahead of the cases we’re working on. Maybe because we work better together. Or because being around her leaves me energized and ready to take on anything.
Her attention is back on the window overlooking the city, her fingertips tapping on her desk. I glance toward the door, wondering if I should offer to walk her to her car. “I could walk you out,” I say softly.
She smiles again. “That would be nice, thank you.”
It’s a dangerous step. One that’ll put us directly in the view of anyone we cross paths with and whoever is watching the security cameras. Maybe we’ll run into Anton. I imagine the old bastard wouldn’t be happy to see his plan to drive me crazy backfiring. Because he knows I don’t work well with others, and putting me in an office with someone else is his way of punishing me for challenging him... even though he’d given me what I asked for.
Either that, or he expected us to start having feelings for one another, and his plan is to use that against us.
Whatever he wants to do next is fine. I have a plan for however things might unfold next. But one thing is for sure, I’m not letting Emma slip through my fingertips. Unless she wants to leave - which I’d let her do without hesitation - I’m not letting her go without a fight.
We both glance up at the door as someone knocks. Before we can move, the handle turns and the door swings open. I hear her gasp and straighten my shoulders as Sterling saunters into the room.
He walks right up to Emma and pulls her into a hug, even as she pushes him away. It takes every bit of self-control I possess to stay calm and in place.
I wonder if Emma is falling for his polished charm; his smile is too wide, too practiced, like he spent far too long looking in a mirror and perfecting it. And the I own you look in his eyes is impossible to miss, but his charm might hide his intentions from Emma. Not that I think she’s easily fooled - she’s a highly intelligent woman - but he’s had more practice fooling people than the average jerk.
“What are you doing here?” Emma demands, her voice sounding almost breathless. But that breathlessness sounds more like anger than anything positive.
She takes a step back, smoothing her blond hair as if worried the mass has sprung free from her tight bun. He has her nervous, maybe even scared. “I told you I’d take you out for dinner,” he says in a loving tone. But I know better. Beneath that veneer of sweetness a predator stalks the woman I’m falling for. He’s not actually worried about her; he’s focused on winning. Winning her, winning against me, and winning the desperate war waging within him that obviously leaves him feeling like he’s not enough.
“I told you I have plans,” she says, still firm as she stands up to him.
She has plans? She didn’t mention anything to me. Not that she owes me any answers, I’m just surprised her plans didn’t come up throughout the course of our day.
“And after dinner, I can take you home.” He moves closer to her, encroaching on her space in a way that has her shifting, searching for an escape. His hands reach for her hips, but she backs up a step and his attitude shifts.
“I told you, I have plans tonight.” She tries again and I wonder if he can’t hear her or simply isn’t listening.
“So cancel them,” he says.
She lets out a stunned grunt of surprise at his demand and I bring a hand to my forehead, trying to keep my cool as I run my hands through my hair in disbelief. Did he really just say that? Is this some elaborate prank? Is he joking?
“When we get home, I’ll rub your feet, draw you a bath, and satisfy any other desires you have.” He lets out a grinding laugh that has her curling a lip in disgust - not that he’ll notice her response. Or if he does, he’ll somehow twist it to something favorable. I lean back against my desk, feigning indifference, but listening carefully and watching for any cue from her that she needs backup.
I keep my fists from clenching. Emma deserves better than this. She deserves someone who won’t suffocate her with false promises and empty gestures that’ll dry up - along with his interest - as soon as he’s conquered her.
“We won’t be going home, because I’m not canceling my plans.” She stares up at him, slowly shaking her head as if she can’t believe this conversation either. One thing I do notice, she steers clear of looking at me. No doubt to keep Sterling’s attention away from me.
Sterling takes a step closer and she raises a hand like a barrier between them. His hands find her shoulders, then slide down her arms as she tries to back up again. Her eyes meet mine and I see her silent plea, her soundless cry for help even as she shakes her head as if telling me to keep my distance.
“You will,” he says, kissing the top of her head as she tries to lean as far away from him as possible.
“No, I won’t. I have plans.” Despite his aggressive, controlling stance, her voice is steady and composed.
But he keeps talking, his words blurring into a nauseating drone that continues on and on and on. I can feel Emma’s patience wear thin along with mine. And she cuts him off, her tone as sharp as glass. “I don’t know how much clearer I can be,” she says, glaring up at him. “We’re done. Through. Not dating anymore. I’m not interested in you. I don’t want to go anywhere with you. I want you to leave me alone and lose my number.”
Sterling finally seems to hear her. His features scrunch with disbelief etched in every line. I remind myself to stay calm and stay out of this unless she signals me that she needs help. Even though I can talk myself down, my heart still races and my knuckles itch. I want nothing more than to have Sterling meet my knuckles, up close and personal.
“Emma, would you like me to call security?” I ask, reminding her she has options.
“She doesn”t need you to do anything, assface,” Sterling says.
I chuckle, amused by his childish insult as Emma’s gaze darts to me, filled with worry.
At my quiet chuckle, Sterling seems to pause and reconsider, to calculate the risks of what he’s doing. Which is just fine with me. I don’t care how this plays out, so long as Emma is safe and happy. I can see the gratitude in her expression and nod. I hope she knows that her safety matters more than any consequence I might face.
“It’s time for you to leave,” Emma says, her confidence shining in her voice as she faces Sterling. “You’re no longer welcome here, and if you show up, you’ll be met with security.”
I’m proud of her for standing up for herself. She’s an incredible woman, and I hope she never doubts herself or her ability to handle any situation with grace and power.
And, as I expected, Sterling gets stupid.
“You can’t do that!” His voice rises as he speaks to an unwavering Emma.
“I can and I am,” she says, crossing her arms.
I step forward, well aware that my next move might cost me everything - but sometimes safety demands sacrifice.
“Throw me out, then,” Sterling says to Emma. “I dare you to throw me out. And when you do, I’ll just move on to one of the other women lining up to do whatever I want them to.”
“How many women do you have tied up in your basement?” she asked, the words clearly leaving her lips before she can stop them.
He takes a step toward her and she flinches, but I’m not about to let him do a damn thing to her. I grab his shoulder and yank, spinning him to face me as his feet shuffle in a mad dance to keep him standing. We face one another and he sizes me up while I decide how to knock him down.
He lunges toward me, swinging his fists like sledgehammers with no grace, tact, or knowledge of how to fight. I step aside, letting his momentum carry him into a wall when he doesn”t make contact with me. The drywall holds up under his impact, and I make a mental note to hire the contractors who worked on this building if I ever decide to move. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Emma sliding along the wall toward the door. And when Sterling turns, he sees her leaving, too.
“You can’t leave,” he growls at her, lurching in her direction like Frankenstein”s monster. His jaw flexes as he grits his teeth. But I step between him and his intended target. He stops before me, his eyes flat, cold, and mean. “Get out of my way,” he says, swinging at me with a sloppy right hook I easily duck.
His anger pours out of him in a grunt.
My anger, however, is firmly on lockdown. I’d learned a long time ago that fighting mad is the fastest way to lose. Instead, I keep my head level and watch for clues to his next move. He lunges at me and I use his momentum to my advantage, smashing my fist into his nose.
I feel the cartilage pop under my knuckles, feel skin tearing as pain reverberates up my arm. But the flash of pain is quickly swallowed up by a flood of adrenalin.
Sterling lets out a roar, falling to the floor and clutching his face as blood pours from his face and taints the air a sickly metallic flavor I’ve never liked. I glance around, looking for Emma, only to find she’s gone. But the door is open and I see her, security guys, and Anton all walking toward me.
A knot in the pit of my stomach tightens. Time to face the consequences. I’m going to jail. But as I look down at the tears and blood flowing down Sterling’s face, I know it’s worth whatever punishment I face.
Security take point on either side of Sterling and get him to his feet while Anton walks in, clasping his hands behind his back. I can see curious observers creeping close, but none dare to invade our space.
Anton turns to me.
“Another fight. Our agreement is now void-”
“He protected me. Sterling was about to... put his hands on me.” Emma speaks up quickly, her voice loud enough for half the people on our floor to hear, and I instantly know what she’s doing. Clever, clever woman.
Anton stops, clearly recognizing he’s been outplayed. I’d swear I see a slight smile on his lips as he speaks up, too. “I’ll hire more security to avoid incidents like this in the future.” With that, he gets ready to leave our office, but Emma calls him out.
“Your son protected me from serious bodily harm in your building,” she says, and Anton’s shoulders square up. “I think we owe him gratitude.” Emma turns to me. “Thank you, Clifton. I can’t even properly express how grateful I am to you.” Her eyes are filled with truth, and warmth spreads through my body like wildfire.
And she turns to Anton, who is watching us both with barely contained anger. “Thank you, Clifton,” he says through gritted teeth.
“I was just doing the right thing,” I say, wondering how many bridges are being burned for both Emma and me at this very moment.